


Special Delivery.

by BarPurple



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Delivery Person AU, F/M, Pre-Relationship, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Woobies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 04:31:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9531626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: beastlycheese prompted: The new delivery guy is Gold. Belle goes on a spending spree to see him every day. She may even send herself parcels so that she can customise the packaging.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beastlycheese](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beastlycheese/gifts).



Belle was never at her best first thing in the morning, anything before nine am was not her happy time of day, but two days a week she forced herself out of bed and made herself a very strong cup of tea to make sure she was awake enough to answer the door.

This particular Tuesday she pulled open the door wearing a vest top, leggings and a dressing gown.

“Morning Rach… Oh my god you are not Rachel!”

The very male mailman on her doorstep dropped his eyes to the doormat, and with that treacle slow feeling of embarrassment Belle realized that her vest top was one deep breath away from a nip slip. She hastily wrapped her dressing gown around her and tried for a more convivial greeting.

“Morning. Rachel did say she was going on safari. I, erm, forgot, mornings aren’t my thing.”

He glanced up and gave her a brief smile.

“I’m Robert. I’ll be handling your deliveries for the next few weeks.”

Belle managed to maintain a small level of dignity as she signed for the parcels while he lifted them in over her doorstep. He gave her a little wave as he headed off down the path. She shut the door and counted to ten before she banged her head against it and groaned.

Why did Rach have to decide that six weeks on the savannah was a good idea? Why did her new delivery man have to be a cutie with a to-die-for accent? Why did she have to be so crap first thing in the morning? 

Belle sighed dramatically and picked up her parcels; this was going to be a very long six weeks.

 

On Thursday Belle set three alarms to make sure she was up and made sure she was sensibly dressed before Robert’s van pulled up at the end of the drive. She greeted him with a smile and actually caught sight of his eyes this time. Oh gods that didn’t help; they were gorgeous pools of whiskey brown. She was in so much trouble.

“Good morning Miss French. Pick up today I believe?”

“Erm, yes, just three little ones today.”

He nodded and scanned them all before picking them up and turning to leave. He was halfway down the path when she called out; “See you next Tuesday!”

He turned and cocked his head at her, a hurt look flashing across his face before his lips twisted into a wry smile; “See you next week Miss French.”

For the second time that week Belle closed her front door and counted to five before she banged her head against it. 

“See you next Tuesday? Really Belle? What the fuck?”

She’d been very careful not to use that particular arrangement of words since Ruby had showed her the entry in the Urban Dictionary. She was hopeless, totally and utterly hopeless. 

 

She was ready the following Tuesday, loitering by the window so she saw the exact moment Robert’s van pulled up. She gave herself a fast glance in the hall mirror to check that a wardrobe malfunction wasn’t likely and threw open the door, only to see Robert still in his van. He gave her a shrug and shook his head, before pulling off with a little wave. Belle swore under her breath and stomped back inside to check her email. As she suspected there was a message informing her that her regular delivery would be delay because of blah blah blah. Did Robert work Wednesdays? Would he be the one bringing her delayed parcels?

He didn’t. He wasn’t. Belle wasn’t happy until Thursday.

 

Everything arrived on time for the next three weeks. Belle and Robert had progressed to the point they were lingering on her doorstep and exchanging socially acceptable pleasantries for a few moments. The penultimate Thursday Robert joked that Belle only had to put up with him for another two deliveries, since Rachel would be back the week after next.

“Unless you decide to stock up for the end of the world, I’m doing this round every day next week.”

“Why’s that?”

He shrugged, “Oh y’know school holidays, singletons like me cover the shifts for family folk.”

He gulped nervously, but gave her a hopefully glance. Belle was struck dumb. Was he? Had he? 

“Have a good day Belle.”

Robert’s van was pulling away before Belle came to her senses. He’d gone out of his way to tell her he’d be working all of next week, and that he was single. Belle slowly closed her front door and walked to her computer in a trance. She sat down and flexed her fingers; she had some shopping to do.

Monday to Thursday that week saw Robert at Belle’s door every morning at ten am sharp. They blushed and grinned more, joking over her sudden increase in deliveries. On Friday Belle was impatiently pacing up and down in front of the window waiting for his arrival. She’d been very careful to include specific delivery instructions for this parcel; those nine words had haunted her since she’d hit send. When the clock chimed quarter past her anxiety ramped up another level, what if she’d been to forward? Half past ten had her checking the local new in case there had been an accident. Quarter to eleven found her by her garden gate looking hopefully down the lane. Five to eleven and she was berating herself for daring to hope. 

The clock chimed the hour and the doorbell rang.

Robert was stood on the doorstep with her parcel and a little box from the local bakery. 

“Yes. I brought cakes.”

 

It wasn’t the strangest special delivery instruction they had ever received, but it was the one that kept the depot talking for the longest. The parcel addressed to local recluse Belle French that carried an personal message for the shyest of their staff became something of a legend. The message? A simple nine words:

“Robert, would you like a cuppa with me? Belle.”

**Author's Note:**

> http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=See%20You%20Next%20Tuesday


End file.
